


The Trickster and the Almighty

by WearyOctopus



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Beginning of a Beautiful Bromance, Friendship, Gen, Implied Thasmin Backstory, Modern Setting, Mythical Beings & Creatures, New Companions (Doctor Who), Post-Fam, Self-Appointed God Villain, Space Pirates, Thirteenth Doctor Era, Thunderbirds!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28780068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WearyOctopus/pseuds/WearyOctopus
Summary: Several years after her final adventure with Yaz, Thirteen returns to Earth in 2022. A crew of space pirates, acting on the orders of an almighty god-king, are desperately pursuing her, trying to recapture a Thunderbird she'd liberated after centuries of their cruel bondage. In London, Mary Chesterton and Maverick Dorsey are swept up into the Doctor's orbit amid all this at exactly the wrong moment.*rewrite pending spring 2021 with a more effective hook*
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Original Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	1. The Nightmarish Wedding

London, England – February 2022

The black cab idled in the middle of Farringdon Street. The warm exhaust of the bumper-to-bumper traffic reacted with the cold February morning air, shrouding the vehicles. A congregation of dark clouds, followed closely by an enormous billowing thunderhead, had formed on the south side of the Thames.

Maverick peered over the cabbie’s weather-worn coat shoulder at the gridlocked street ahead. Unusually genial from the start, the cabbie had been offering good-faith general interest remarks about the weather and traffic patterns and Arsenal’s incredible rookie striker from Punta Arenas, Chile to leaven the vibe. The response from his passengers was underwhelming.

Mary hadn’t spoken a word. She glared out the window, availing Maverick to feign politeness for them both. Soon even the cabbie went quiet.

Maverick checked the time. “Well, we’re late.”

Icy silence from Mary.

Traffic gridlock mystery still unsolved, Maverick settled back into his seat and brushed a few rogue dog hairs from his well-fitted suit jacket. Tracing the edge of his dark cyan-blue silk tie absently, he people-watched the adjacent vehicles for a while.

Refocusing, he saw his own dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and vivid olive complexion in the window. He began to mentally prepare for another day of well-meaning yet tedious conversations beginning with the question “Where are you from?” As if his perfect London accent wasn’t a tipoff. At the last two weddings, he’d experimented with throwing these questioners off with the true facts of his premature birth in a Toronto, Canada hospital, which, so far, no one had intelligently responded to.

He turned toward Mary again. She pretended not to notice, her carefully styled, below-shoulder-length light brown hair shielding her face from view. She had chosen a soft pink midi dress and a dark overcoat. As always, she looked stunning. Still, for a wedding in February, even with the coat, it wasn’t enough; she was clearly shivering. If her sublimated fury hadn’t clenched her teeth shut, they would surely be chattering.

Maverick edged forward, patting the cabbie’s shoulder. “We’re a bit cold, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine. Leave it,” Mary barked, still glaring out the window.

Catching the cabbie’s eye in the mirror, Maverick gestured to do it anyway. Mary chose not to observe this.

As traffic inched forward, the cause of the gridlock became evident: a flatbed truck with a front-mounted crane and a gang of motorbikes idled in the left lane and on the sidewalk around a large blue box. Dozens of Scotland Yard officers stood by as the crane hauled the box onto the flatbed, which was already loaded with half a dozen stone angel statues. As the cab drew even, Maverick strained to examine the blue box: at the top, it read ‘Police Public Call Box’. Traffic halted as the motorbikes revved off, sirens blaring, followed by the flatbed truck with the blue box.

“We ought to have taken the Tube,” Maverick muttered.

“You already said that,” Mary retorted through her teeth in a dark sing-song.

“Well, I was right.”

“I’m not going to my favourite cousin’s wedding at an eight-hundred-year-old cathedral by the Tube.”

Maverick was considering his response when, two cars ahead of them, on the back of the flatbed, one of the doors of the blue box inched open and a few vine tendrils crept out. They felt around for few moments, then retreated inside, and firmly shut the door. Maverick and the cabbie exchanged bewildered looks.

The London Eye ascended into view on their right as traffic started moving and, at last, superseded the speed limit moving onto the bridge.

“We’ll get you there yet. Not far now,” assured the cabbie.

The rain began pelting down on the south side of the Thames, escalating from large stray drops to actual sheets of water within a minute. Maverick grasped his extra-large black umbrella gratefully. Mary glanced at it.

“You remembered something, at least.”

Maverick exhaled and closed his eyes. “Do you want me to apologize again?”

She scoffed at him and said nothing. They returned to their windows and lapsed into silence as the car pulled up to the cathedral. The entrance plaza of the 800-year-old Gothic cathedral was abuzz with baroque classical music remixed with EDM beats and whirrs. Maverick had expected nothing less.

He unfurled his umbrella and rounded the cab to help Mary out and shield her from the downpour. She wobbled a little on her new heels but ignored his offered hand. She took a deep breath and straightened herself to her full height, nearly even with his six feet in these shoes.

They hesitated outside the ajar wrought iron gate. A lively Bach string quartet punctuated by Daft Punkey judders and distortions polluted the air and a human-sized arrangement of roses, baby’s breath, and whatnot had been set up under a neon pink awning on the plaza where the sound system, the DJ, and his entourage were welcoming guests. Maverick held the umbrella steady as Mary rummaged in her bag for her tiny round to-go mirror, but when another cab pulled over at the curb, she stuffed it away, like a teenage boy slamming his laptop shut, and turned to Maverick.

She gestured at her face. “Am I alright? I had to rush.”

He met her eyes and was arrested by their liquid near-turquoise depth; her diamond shaped face slicing down to her small matte red lips and petite chin; her effortless hair tucked neatly behind her delicate ear on one side; and her unblemished nose and finely-trimmed eyebrows, which bore the only trace of her artful ministrations that he could discern.

“You look incredible. Shall we go in?”

“Hang on.” Some church friends stepped out of the cab and they exchanged warm greetings as the other couple bustled inside, rubbing their hands and promising to catch up after the ceremony.

“Come on, you’re freezing,” Maverick enjoined. “I swear, you look brilliant.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s... your ring. I...” Her voice caught and she blinked rapidly.

“Look... I really did mean to wear it.”

She dabbed her eyes with her fingers and grunted with frustration, recollecting herself. “I... it’s not... I mean, you know I can’t act, right? You know I’m the worst liar. I get all flushed and nervous and start blathering on and on and... people can tell. Someone will notice, whether it’s my father or Marie or Aunt Liza or whoever and I’ll completely blow it and I’m not ready for...”

Maverick studied the dancing puddles on the pavement and awaited her next words. The downpour persisted without letup. Another car arrived and its passengers hurried past them into the church.

“I thought we had agreed. One more try. Mav, look at me.”

He looked. “You’re right. One more try. I’m sorry. Also, you’re not going to blow it. You’re not that hopeless. Just try to be vague in a couple words, don’t actually say a lie, and then change the subject.”

Her teeth chattered a little and she huddled deeper into her coat. “Alright. Let’s go in. I’m never going to a February wedding ever again.”

“What do you expect? Lynn and Jerry are church kids, like us. They couldn’t possibly have waited for summer.” He arched his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ugh, you’re awful,” she said, chuckling despite herself.

Inside, the fresh garlands and bouquets graced every available surface and corner. Strings of tasteful white LEDs with an inbuilt candle-flicker effect had been pinned up on various mirrors and pieces of furniture. An older woman with a family resemblance to the groom was rearranging the centrepiece flower arrangement at the front of the room, huffing and muttering to herself.

“Remember, find Mrs. Potter first. She’s not the only one who’s been asking after you every Sunday for months, but you should start with her.”

Maverick tried not to visibly grimace but Mary caught it.

She scoffed. “You are a piece of work.”

“What?”

“You are so ungrateful. The woman taught us Sunday School for seven years. She wept tears of joy at our wedding. She prays for us every morning. The least you can do is go over there and say ‘hello, nice to see you, Mrs. Potter. Thanks for asking after me while I’ve been dicking around away from my church family for the last two months while I rebel against God. I’ve been going to random Starbuckses on Sunday mornings rather than the church I was raised in’.”

“Say that a little louder, Mary. I’m sure somebody in here didn’t hear you.”

Alarmed, she scanned their vicinity but saw nobody with an attuned ear. She frowned at him, waving a finger. “Talk to her.”

Maverick sighed in resignation.

Mary checked the time on her phone as he walked away and she wandered closer to the rows of chairs. Someone ahead of her was muttering to herself.

“Whoa. Whoawhoawhoa. That is brilliant. Wouldn’t have thought....”

A short blonde woman waving a ringing electric wand-type thing interrupted her progress and Mary stared without staring, swiping blindly through her Instagram feed, at the strange woman in the ankle-length grey coat and rainbow t-shirt. From a coat pocket, the woman produced a souped-up, too-large-for-that-pocket, offbrand iPad mini speckled with a bunch of moving dots arrayed across a plan of the cathedral.

The woman caught Mary staring. Mary tensed but found the woman grinning and scronching her nose at her. As Mary scrambled for an excuse for staring, the woman spoke first.

“I must look a bit odd. Who’s that kooky lady wandering around an old cathedral with an Infrared Goonie Extrapolator before a wedding? Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here in a jiff, no fuss.”

The woman scampered off like a child expecting ice cream, following the buzz of her electric wand but before Mary could move, though, the woman skipped back and fixed her with a searching look.

“You look very familiar but I can’t place you.”

Mary blinked, deer in the headlights. “I, uh... look a lot like my dad. Johnny Chess. You probably know his music. Or his... you know, tabloid drama.”

The woman’s green eyes twinkled and she crowed excitedly. “‘Chess’, short for ‘Chesterton’? Barbara and Ian’s son?”

Mildly alarmed, Mary nodded. The woman snapped her fingers and thanked her before bounding off again. Two seats on the aisle halfway up drew Mary forward and she seated herself. Maverick joined her a few moments later.

“You didn’t tell me Mrs. Potter’d had the flu. If I’d known, I would have made the effort.”

“It wasn’t flu. She never even missed church. She’ll outlive us all.”

“You know, she noticed right away I wasn’t wearing my ring. This could be a long day.”

Mary stared straight ahead and pursed her lips, as if to yell ‘no shit Sherlock’ with body language.

The groom had arrived with his four groomsmen and they were striding to the platform in their name-brand tuxedos. Christina and Simon, who had also been in Mrs. Potter’s Sunday School class, caught his eye and smiled back at him. Rachel, another old church friend, waved from the left side aisle. He found Mary watching him as he responded to them.

“Seen any of your family yet?” he asked.

“No, not yet.”

“Is Ian coming?”

“I think so. I called him last night. He was excited to be here. But his doctors weren’t too happy about it.”

Maverick nodded. The groom’s wedding party milled around at the front, joking with the minister and casually adjusting the centrepiece flower arrangement. He turned to watch Mary, who was still thinking of her grandfather.

“He’s just so frail these days. I’m worried every time I see him or talk to him it’ll be the last time.” She dipped her head forward a little and chewed on a fingernail. “Can you come with me tomorrow? To see him? I think he’d like that.”

“Yeah, course, I’d love to see him.”

“Okay, I’ll text you.”

They sat quietly as the goings-on progressed for several minutes. The groom and groomsmen had cleared out. In their place, the mother of the groom, a stout woman with an air of flustered condescension, had arrived and was becoming animated with the florist, gesturing at the flower arrangement at the front of the nave with real verve. The florist, a diminutive man with glasses, shaved head, and an electric blue blazer, flicked his eyes from the arrangement to the woman and back again, shaking his head and speaking with soft earnestness. The words “What do you mean ‘unauthorized rearrangement’?” boomed from the woman, carrying throughout the entire cathedral to some guarded hilarity.

“How’s Appa?” asked Maverick.

Mary smiled reflexively at the thought of their charismatic Golden Retriever. “Daya is checking in on him later this afternoon after work.”

“Do you think he’s adjusting to the two homes situation?”

Mary’s smile faded. “No, not really. He’s still confused. Especially at bedtime. Wednesday evening, after you dropped him off, he kept waiting at the door for you to come back, until almost midnight.”

Maverick grimaced. Then, sensing a presence looming over him, he startled.

“You came,” growled the tall, impressive woman standing over him in the aisle. “I was wondering whether you would.”

“Dee. Good to see you.”

Mary tottered to her feet and sidled around Maverick to hug her. “Hi Mummy.”

“Hi honey.” Dee rested her lips on the crest of her daughter’s hair and sighed. “After the reception tonight, I have something to tell you.”

They parted, Mary looking up into her mother’s face. “Tell me now.”

She shook her head. “It can wait. Find me before you go home.”

Mary nodded.

Dee glanced at Maverick. “Is he behaving?”

Maverick scowled and crossed his arms, pretending to watch the reverend and the organist’s conversation at the side of the nave.

“He forgot his ring.”

Dee set her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Really Maverick?”

Maverick bowed his head. “It was a stupid mistake. I’ve apologized and I promise...”

“Save your promises. I know how much they’re worth,” Dee murmured. She bent down and kissed Mary on the cheek. Setting her bag and overcoat on the chair next to Mary, she walked off to greet her brother Brad Haynes, the father of the bride, who had arrived at the front with his wife, Liza.

“So you told her.”

“Of course I told her. We tell each other everything. You told Auntie Ellen, didn’t you?”

“I told Auntie Ellen because I had to explain why I needed to move in with her again rather than continue living with my wife. Mary, we were just talking about trying again.”

“I told her about that too. She told me I shouldn’t bother.”

Maverick choked on phlegm and turned in his seat to face her. “She what?”

“She thinks I’d be happier in the long term if you and I divorced and got on with our lives.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“Maverick! We’re in a house of God!”

He waved off her objection impatiently.

Just then, the strange blonde woman burst through a side door, following her ringing wand-device. She sprinted across the nave in front of everyone and, in her haste, nearly bowled over the mother of the groom and the florist, who were still engaged in their debate.

“Sorry, coming through. Really sorry. Bit rusty. Gonna hear a noise. Brace!”

She slipped through a north-facing emergency exit to their left and at once a deafening gush of hoarse feedback erupted from the sky. Everyone covered their ears and Reverend Butler and the organist dashed back to the sound technician’s booth even as the sound technician himself was already flailing his hands about, hailing the heavens as if the error wasn’t his. The cathedral security team rushed to the north-side door through which the strange woman had exited.

Without warning, the electricity cut out. A chorus of screams pierced through the cacophony as the gush of hoarse feedback modulated to a juddering piledriver-type effect which shook the cathedral down to its foundations. The woman reappeared, jogging up the centre aisle from behind and focusing her wand-device on a small platform in her arms about half a metre squared. One final buzz with her wand and she tossed the platform down in the middle of the aisle, leapt onto it, and vanished. Five seconds later the deafening noises ceased and the foundation calmed.

Mary and Maverick hadn’t gotten far in the chaos. Maverick had been forging ahead through the crush of bodies towards the exit with Mary’s arm in a vice grip but now, standing in the crowded aisle, hand in hand, they peered about, wary that the cacophony might resume. When it didn’t, they drifted back to their seats and caught their breath.

A hum of nervous jokes and de-escalating chitchat began to fill the cathedral. The security team, led by a soft-spoken butch lady and a handsome Sikh fellow, was investigating the square platform the vanished woman had abandoned in the aisle. A small congregation formed around them as they poked and prodded it, picked it up, turned it over. Several individuals during this inquest craned their necks and searched the cathedral tower above for some sign of the woman.

Someone somewhere reset the breakers and the lights tinkled back to life. A thud at the front of the room announced that the mother of the groom had just fainted. She was attended to and swiftly moved to another room. Next, a smattering of applause praised the removal of the square platform and, after a brief discussion with the security team, Reverend Butler was handed a cordless mic and took the stage.

He announced, a bit breathlessly, that the ceremony would go on as planned with a twenty-minute delay after security swept the premises and the sound team reset their equipment.

As the Reverend concluded, Maverick noticed Mary was watching him. Their hands were still clasped together. Mary traced circles on the back of his hand with her pinky finger. “Well, that’s something, at least,” she said, focused on their joined hands.

Maverick, in an inexplicable rush, loosened his grip. As soon as he’d done it, he couldn’t explain why. She drew both her hands back as if stung. Maverick flushed, his mind racing for a plausible excuse. But Mary stood and manoeuvred around Maverick into the aisle. She muttered about checking on her mother.

After she had rushed off into the crowd, Maverick palmed his forehead and sighed.

“Yeah, not great,” said a sprightly voice. Four seats down the otherwise empty row sat the strange woman, lounging on a chair with her feet up on the seatback in front of her. Her clothes were a mix of faded, threadbare pieces, and bright new ones. Her long off-white coat had seen better days, more grey now than white, and the red shirt underneath it, adorned simply with a solid white five-pointed star, wasn't any better, with a hole in the shoulder so large you could fit two fingers through it. She looked as if she hadn't worn anything else for years. However, her trousers, loose vivid blue cotton, and Doc Martens looked brand new. She was munching on a biscuit, the half empty packet on her lap.

He stared then squinted, pointing at the aisle where she had just vanished atop the square platform.

“Wasn’t mine,” she said, apparently referring to the magic platform, waving it off. “Don’t need it. Although...” She straightened up and considered the direction the security team had gone. She dismissed the concern with another wave. “Nah, it’ll end up back at the Black Archive anyway.”

“The black... what? What are you...?”

“That woman you were with? What’s your relationship, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Maverick couldn’t see Mary anywhere, so, shaking his head, he turned back to this strange woman whose attention was still clearly split between him and the biscuits. “We’re married.”

“No ring though?” Her voice was muffled and uneven as she chewed. She looked pointedly at his left hand. “Usually your folk wear rings when they’re married. That’s definitely still a thing in the early twenty-first century. See? I’ve got two!” She waggled her left hand at him, a weathered silver band on her ring finger and a downright ancient-looking gold dual-banded ring on her thumb.

He stared at her, open mouthed. “Early twenty-first...? I forgot it at home. Who are you anyway? What’s with all these questions?”

“’m va Dahtah,” she mumbled, having stuffed two biscuits into her mouth at once. She grinned awkwardly and rolled her eyes as she chewed, twirling one hand around to represent her progress until she swallowed. “Sorry. Haven’t eaten in days. I’m the Doctor.”

“The Doctor?” Maverick contorted his face in confusion. “Doctor who?”

A delighted grin spread across her face. “Well, sometimes, but not lately. Good guess though! Just ‘The Doctor’. So, Maverick! Married six years, was it?”

“I never told you...”

“You can’t be much older than, what, twenty-eight? That’s pretty young.”

“Alright! What do you care? How are you here? And where did you disappear to five minutes ago when you stepped onto that platform?”

She ignored his questions and countered with her own. “Whose idea was it to call you Maverick? That’s an unusual one. Can’t say I care for it. Ooh! Or is it a nickname? Love a good nickname.”

He exhaled impatiently before conceding. “My dad’s idea. He had a childhood fighter jet fixation but turned out colour blind. It’s a character from a movie called Top Gun.” Decades-old memories of his father rushed back and he felt a twinge in his gut, one he hadn’t felt for awhile. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Why am I telling you this? What do you care?”

She considered this with a smile. “I care because we’re family, in a way. At least, you’ve married into the family. And because I can’t leave well enough alone, but it’s less that. Ian and Barbara are two of the most brilliant people in the universe. They’re my family as much as anyone.”

Maverick studied his hands as he considered the best way to break the bad news. “You said they ‘are’ the most brilliant people. But Granny...”

A cloud passed over the Doctor’s face. “Yes, yes, of course, I know, that’s just something I do. Refer to people in the present tense. I just saw Barbara when she... before she... well, I got to say goodbye. But Ian! Ian’s still around and kicking. Good old Ian. We go way back. Way way back.”

“You don’t look much older than me so how far back could you possibly go?”

“You!” Mary had appeared unnoticed and was pointing at the Doctor. “It’s you! You’re that... that woman!”

As Mary spoke, the Doctor stuffed the now three quarters empty biscuit packet into a coat pocket and swallowed the one in her mouth before dashing off down the side aisle. “So long Maverick, like your tie, very blue, got to go.”

As the Doctor disappeared around a corner, the security team took up the chase. Maverick found Mary glaring at him.

“Well? What did she say? Who is she? How did she vanish like that?”

“I don’t know. She wasn’t very forthcoming. She called herself the Doctor. I asked her ‘Doctor what?’, but she didn’t say.”

“‘The Doctor’? What kind of name is that?”

Maverick shrugged. “She was really weird. But she said she knew your grandparents. Both of them. Really well, sounds like.”

Mary frowned and sank into the seat in front of him, facing backwards, resting her hands and chin on the seatback. “What? How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. But she knew their names and stuff, so maybe?”

Reverend Butler spoke into his microphone once more. “The security team has found and detained the culprit for our mishap earlier and the ceremony will go forward with only a fifteen minute delay. The bride has arrived and we will begin soon. Please take your seats.”

Mary swung around and retook her seat beside Maverick. She sat in silence for a minute before resting her head on his shoulder and sighing.

“What’s going on?” he asked, tensing with surprise before slouching down a bit to make her more comfortable. She looped her arms around one of his.

“My father is here. With Marie.”

“Ah.” Maverick checked over his shoulder and glimpsed them near the back, the greying world-famous musician and his perky twenty-something live-in girlfriend. “‘Marie’. Of all the names his girlfriend could have...”

Mary grimaced and gripped his arm a little tighter. “When I went over to say ‘hi’, they were... well, PDIA doesn’t even cover it.” Mary’s own coinage from when they were teenagers, ‘PDIA’ was their shared shorthand for Public Displays of Indecent Affection, as opposed to innocuous hugs or chaste cheek pecks.

She laced her fingers through his. “Anyway, he said that Grandad isn’t coming today. They stopped by the hospital on their way here and the doctors said it would be too risky.”

“Aw. Too bad.”

Mary lifted her head off his shoulder and fiddled with their entwined fingers. She had the look of a question on her mind but stopped short of asking it.

“What?” he enjoined. Watching her fiddling with their fingers, he couldn’t help but smile at her. “What were you going to say?”

Seeing his smile, she didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go visit him tonight, after the reception.”

“Sure, let’s do it. I was going to do some marking but I can push it to tomorrow.”

She smiled back at him and their eyes met. “Thank you.”

He grinned and bobbed his head. After a pause, he spoke, his face turning more serious. “Hey, about before, I’m sorry I yanked my hand away. I don’t know why I did that.”

She sobered a little and looked away. “Alright. Thanks. I try not to... um... I don’t know, take it to heart? Take it... I don’t know what I’m saying. You confuse me sometimes. That’s what I mean.”

“I confuse me too,” he sighed.

The groom and the four groomsmen had lined up next to Reverend Butler. Jerry Jones, the groom, flexed his nervous smile as his eyes roved the cathedral. Maverick barely knew Mary’s cousin, Lynn, let alone her husband-to-be, but they’d had a beer together at Mark and Christina’s party last summer. He’d been a goofy, harmless chap with a good job at Apple’s London HQ. And now he looked like a teenager after having shorn off his years-old beard-bush for the big day.

The voices hushed as Mr. Rhodes eased into the keys of the pipe organ and the bridesmaids began their march to the front. First up was Jerry’s younger sister, whose name Maverick had never learned. She smiled brightly and paced forward with mechanical precision.

Next was Patty Harris, Lynn’s best friend from uni, the ‘bad influence’. According to the family social media, Patty had hooked Lynn on weed for the whole spring term of their second year, leading to a failure scare, and exposed her to several dreadful books about paganism and philosophy. They’d put the whole thing behind them but Lynn had insisted that Patty participate, despite her family’s protests.

Lynn’s fraternal twin sisters, Anne and Erin, the maids of honour, came next. Striding along the centre aisle, arm in arm, Anne was ashen. Twice she peered behind her, and each time Erin nudged her and tried to pull her forward in time with Mr. Rhodes’ music. Uneven and shambolic, they arrived at the front and took their places opposite the groomsmen, concern now animating both young women.

A series of shrieks pealed out. Mary breathed Lynn’s name and searched the back of the cathedral for the panic-stricken bride. At the same time, the Doctor had given the security team the slip and was sprinting down the side-aisle toward the front with a guard in hot pursuit. Mr. Rhodes vamped in confusion, impatient to begin the bridal march, looking around for the cause of the delay.

The Doctor leapt onto the platform behind Reverend Butler, long coat streaming aloft behind her, short blonde hair awhirl, and waved her arms about. “Please exit the building in a calm and orderly fashion. Not a joke, not a drill; please exit now. No time to lose,” she yelled into the horrified man’s microphone.

Mr. Rhodes abandoned his pipe organ on an unresolved chord and rushed to the platform. Lynn shrieked some more and Jerry leapt off the platform and ran to her at the back of the cathedral before the gobsmacked masses could flood out of their rows and into his path. The Doctor had vanished around a corner without a trace.

Reverend Butler conferred with a security guard, seeking to understand whether an evacuation was really necessary but the flow of attendees had already begun to pool around the exits.

A shattering blast of the horrible hoarse feedback resumed, accompanied by violent shaking on all sides like a persistent seismic shudder. Windows broke in the tower and shattered onto the platform, scattering the remnants of the wedding party.

Then, as if rising out of hell, a harbinger of the end of days, a beastial roar punctuated the deafening feedback, echoing above and below, enlivening a whole new species of panic.

The primal sprint for the exits toppled chairs, trampled slow-movers, and broke doors off hinges. The glint of flames appeared throughout the room. The cathedral walls shook.

Mary and Maverick dashed to an emergency exit side door leading out to the churchyard where only a couple dozen people were funnelling out. Dee had appeared next to them out of nowhere and clasped her daughter’s shoulders, repeating something inaudible over and over.

Before Maverick crossed the threshold into the churchyard, he stepped aside onto the bottom steps of the second-floor staircase, allowing the crowd to flow past him. Turning, he saw inside the fiery, chaotic, stained-glass-strewn nave. The Doctor had reappeared. A long, thick cable that had fallen down from the tower and she was scaling it with a glitchy hand-ascender mountain-climbing device. She’d shimmied halfway up the swaying cable and dangled there, above the drenched and battered remains of the centrepiece floral arrangement and amid the torrential rain blowing inside through the empty windowpanes.

The enormous creature bellowed down at the dangling woman, crouched in an effortless balance on the second level balcony. The obvious source of the beastial roar, it looked like a Paleocene-sized giant lion, flared mane, vicious claws, oversized sabreteeth, and all, except with a narrower, almost triangular face. Crouched above the Doctor, perched on the balcony banister and roaring down at her, its eyes shifted with cunning and deliberateness. For a moment, the phrasing of its roars coded as a form of intelligent speech.

Mary’s hands clutched at his and Maverick snapped back to attention. Dee waited outside, holding the door open for them. Mary urged him toward it, miming her exhortations to leave with them. The Doctor, he saw, was now dangling mere centimetres below the range of those monstrous claws. Mary followed his gaze and shuddered, her yelp subsumed in the uninterrupted din.

She recovered quickly and tried everything to pull him away, her eyes pleading with him, her hands grasping at his arms. The staircase to the second level beckoned him. Mary shook her head and waved her hands, knowing that look in his eyes. Trying to block his way, she wobbled on her heels and stumbled. He dodged past her, taking the stairs two at a time.

Mary didn’t follow. Even in running shoes, she might not have followed him. She stood at the bottom of the steps, calling after him until the deafening feedback was silenced at last and she heard her own voice in the spooky absence. She didn’t recognize it at first; it was too piteous, too wobbly to be hers. She winced in eventual recognition.

She stood there numbly until another blast shook the nave, prompting screams from stragglers and a clatter of loose furniture. The thunderous clap shattered the few remaining windows, which clattered to the floor in an eerie anticlimax. The chaos quieted and Mary inched back into the nave, where the only noise now was the rain pooling on the platform under the churchtower. From behind the door, she tried to catch another glimpse of the creature.

Reverend Butler and Mr. Rhodes had taken up a sheltered position by a column next to the organ and behind the chief of security, who was on the phone with the police. Mary side-stepped to the two men, eyes still fixed on the tower. Dee reappeared at her side.

“Where did that creature go?” Dee asked.

“And what is it?” Mary asked Reverend Butler. “Have you seen it?”

Butler gestured at the scene, lost for words. The rain pattered down through the shattered stain glass windows, and the pool of water on the platform was growing steadily. The long, thick cable the Doctor had been climbing dropped down and ended in the midst of the puddle. The whirling and whistling of the wind through the jagged openings in the tower and throughout the nave was unsettling. A few small unambitious fires crackled in the less saturated sections off to the sides.

Reverend Butler set aside the water-damaged pew bible he’d been flipping through (between Daniel and Revelation, Mary noted), and pulled himself together. “Well, that woman was up there, you know the one. We also saw a large lion-creature with truly fearsome teeth. But I sense there’s more to it than that.”

“Did you get a good look at the creature?”

Both men shook their heads. Mr. Rhodes, brows wiggling like caterpillars and an eager grin stretched across his ghoulish, hollow-eyed face, thrilled to his new audience. “I saw wings! Enormous scaly wings. I’m certain of it. Not on the lion, mind you. It was a massive pterosaur, flying overhead, I’m certain of it.”

Reverend Butler and Mary shared a dubious look. “Perhaps, Mr. Rhodes, perhaps. All will be revealed in His good time.”

Dee ended her conference with Jane Chambers, the chief of security, and summoned her daughter with real urgency. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Mav is up there.”

“Then he’s a fool and you’ll be a widow rather than a divorcee. Let’s go.”

Mary looked askance at her. She checked her phone, finding two missed calls and several texts, none of them from her father, whom she hadn’t seen since the mayhem began.

Dee reiterated. “We need to leave.”

They retreated to the emergency side exit at the foot of the staircase. Mary hesitated, typing a text in the doorway.

“Are you texting him now? He ran away from you. Let him...”

Mary’s eyebrows flared as she interrupted. “I’m texting Dad. I didn’t see him.”

“You can do that on the street.”

She sent the text and considered the staircase. A distant echoey roar sounded from above, filtered through the heavy noise of falling water. A flash of lightning lit up the sky over Brixton and the thunder rumbled through right on its heels. Mary shook her head.

“I can’t leave, Mum.”

Dee seethed. “Regardless who this is about, those men have made their own bad choices and they’re going to have to live with the consequences of them. It is not your job to overcompensate, to put yourself in danger to correct their mistakes, especially when they run off and abandon you.”

Mary felt her phone vibrate. Her dad, with the news that he and Marie had escaped unharmed. Tearing up, she shook her head. “I made a promise, Mum, I vowed...”

“He’s not holding up his end...”

“It doesn’t matter! I made a promise before God never to give up on him! I can’t just run away after a couple mistakes.”

Dee set her hands on her hips and sighed. “Well, I’m not leaving without you. Are you going to put us both in danger for your ungrateful fool of a husband? Or can we go?”

Maverick had found a shadowy hallway at the top of the stairs. Empty except for an aged wooden ladder bolted to the wall and ascending to the service ramps in the eaves. Intrigued, he moved to investigate when voices echoed from the hallway to his right, evidently the security guards that had preceded him upstairs.

Maverick leapt onto the ladder and scaled it. The voices rounded the corner and he froze. They spotted him instantly.

Scrambling up, the ladder ended at a locked thick oaken attic hatch he couldn’t force through. The Sikh guard proved to be nimble, making short work of the ladder and arresting his escape. Maverick dropped to the floor, breaking the fellow’s grip. He sprinted down the hallway and pushed through an unlocked door where he was greeted by the angry startled roar of the nightmarish creature.

Maverick ducked to the right. The security guards followed him through the door and stared at the creature for a moment too long. The creature charged them. Two of them scampered back through the door and the Sikh fellow zagged to the left. The creature’s momentum plunged it forward, smashing through the flimsy doorframe, intent on the two guards who had hesitated in the hallway.

Below, the pipe organ whorled darkly back to life and another glass pane shattered, masking the final shrieks of the two hapless security guards.

The Sikh fellow, nametagged ‘Harjit Gill’, locked eyes with Maverick across the room. “Quickly, this way.”

Harjit led him around a corner and flashed out a set of keys. The scrabble of the sabre-toothed creature’s chase lit an ancient animalistic panic in Maverick’s chest. However, Harjit, possessed of a preternatural calm and practiced ease, unlocked the door, slammed it shut behind them, and relocked the deadbolt. Sabretooth, for whatever reason, foundered against this door, scratching at the handle with its enormous paws while Maverick and Harjit escaped.

They passed through the dusty walled up storage rooms on the south side, up a ladder, and out onto the open catwalks floating high over the ruined rows of chairs with only a thin railing for safety. Harjit led Maverick through the rafters of the cathedral, rationalizing his choices aloud.

The deadbolted doorframe crackled to splinters behind them and a ghoulish howl of victory followed it. A deep voice called out after them. “Don’t run, apes. I promise to kill you swiftly. My Lord did not give me leave to tarry.”

They sprinted faster but the baritone cackle followed them, closer every moment. They neared the end of the catwalk at the opposite side of the cathedral.

They had bypassed the fraught, rain-slicked tower area entirely, and turned onto the east catwalk rather than contend with the broken glass, that thick cable swinging around, and who knows what else. The Doctor had returned and she was addressing the few remaining people in the nave, amplified by means unknown. He deciphered the term “space pirates” from her rapid-fire delivery.

Below them, Maverick could see the six remaining figures. Mary stood next to Reverend Butler, her pink dress easily distinguishable from the blue pantsuit of the Reverend’s wife, Meredith. Dee was planted by the door, arms crossed tight. The chief of security and the organist stood several steps ahead of them, gawking up at the tower where the Doctor’s legs and long rain-saturated coat dangled from an empty windowpane.

Harjit and Maverick rushed onwards to the top of a ladder used for pipe organ maintenance and descended. Harjit pulled his phone out and dialled, cradling it in his shoulder mid-rung. “Jane, get everyone out. Crawford and Mark are down. Get out. Now.”

In a moment, Sabretooth was bellowing at the top of the ladder. Maverick leaped the final storey, crashing down in the empty landing. A shot resounded above and Harjit plunged to the ground beside him, clutching his shoulder. Sabretooth had hesitated, unsure how to descend, but another figure, tall, lanky, green from head to toe, and yet still humanoid, was careening down the ladder instead, yelling about a ‘bird’.

Unbolting the door, Maverick dragged Harjit’s spasmatic form out into the open. The others spotted him and rushed to his aid, but then recoiled when the humanoid appeared. A green-skinned personage with gills, three eyes, and webbing between his fingers, he ambled out after Maverick, weapon levelled at Jane, the only person even remotely armed. The green gilled fellow was followed out by Sabretooth, who had somehow deduced a means of descent.

Mr. Rhodes screamed. Harjit, haemorrhaging but still conscious, managed to dial emergency. Mary latched onto Maverick, squeezing all the blood from his hand. Meredith Butler snatched the phone from the nearly insensible Harjit and spoke to the dispatcher as the Reverend scrambled to staunch the wound with a scarf and a belt.

Jane and Dee lined up beside Maverick and Mary, facing off against the two aliens. Jane held her single use taser aloft with a confidence that vastly exceeded the weapon’s usefulness while Dee snatched up a hefty shard of stained-glass and a rain-saturated hymnbook. She was shivering and as pale as a ghost.

The standoff was interrupted from above.

“Looking for me?”

Rappelling down the dangling cable, the Doctor tucked something away in a coat pocket before waving at the two aliens. Sabretooth roared at her in frustration and the green fellow flayed his gills dramatically. The echoes of their repartee resounded throughout the totalled cathedral. In the distance, sirens began to approach.

“Return the bird, Doctor. You’ve stolen from us for the last time.”

“Well, not exactly,” the Doctor mused, touching down on the platform and dawdling closer. “I’m gonna liberate a shipment of Fuddikins from you at some point in the next decade. Won’t say when! Keep you on your toes.”

“The bird!” Green Gills insisted. “Return the bird to us now or we will kill every last one of these people.” To emphasize his point, he shot Jane without warning. She clattered to the floor and became eerily still.

The Doctor rushed to the prone woman. “That was totally unnecessary. You’re just poisoning the well. Put your gun away and then maybe we can talk about this like grown-ups.”

Green Gills curled his lips scornfully. Turning the gun on Mary, he fired, but not before Dee could sidestep in front and take the blast herself. She slumped to the ground clutching her left hip as everyone looked on in petrified horror. Sabretooth belly-laughed, shudders running down everyone’s spines, as Mary crouched by Dee’s side, too shocked to be useful.

Without another moment’s delay, the Doctor bolted. She waved her sonic screwdriver about like a madwoman, aiming it deliberately and systematically until the lights cut out in the whole building. An unnatural pitch blackness descended. Even the daylight seemed unable to penetrate the empty windowframes.

Maverick reached into the tangible darkness and found Mary’s arm. He could feel her pulse racing through her wrist. She guided him to Dee’s limp form and they managed to lift her without any major scuffling.

Green Gills fired several random shots into the dark, one of which hit the pipe organ, producing a cacophonous bong. Sabretooth prowled around following his nose, but became sidetracked, if the scraping of his untrimmed talons on the cathedral’s stone exterior was any indication. But the cacophony of the persistent downpour masked enough of their noise that they were constantly second-guessing their locations.

Lightning flashed, and it would have surely given their positions away if someone hadn’t begun an absurd rendition of Chopsticks on the damaged pipe organ at precisely the right moment. In the milliseconds of light, Maverick glimpsed Reverend and Meredith Butler bearing Harjit between them through the front door and onto the street. The thunder rumbled over them barely a second later.

Green Gills inevitably zeroed in on the scuffles and exhalations of the humans. He neared Maverick and Mary’s path to the door, outlined subtly by his natural virescent bioluminescence. Agitated by his proximity, Mary brandished Jane’s taser. Green Gills, glowing thus, presented a decent target. The charge deployed and Mary gasped victoriously. But charge ran out and Green Gills was unfazed.

“Ah! Ahahaha! A mild electric charge! Angledge, their weapon is useless!”

“Run!” the Doctor yelled, her voice echoing wildly from the far side of the building. Dee, in a surge of adrenaline, bucked from his hold and, listing heavily to one side, hurried Mary along in front of her and out the front door. Distracted by the sound of Mr. Rhodes having some difficulty several metres behind them, Maverick hesitated, only for Sabretooth to charge the doorway, blocking their escape.

Maverick charged at the beast. Finding the creature’s side in the dark, he punched it and hopped away. The roar of surprise filled the whole cathedral. Angledge gave blind chase, hurling himself at phantoms. Toeing about as silently as possible, Maverick went again, scoring a tap to Angledge’s hindquarters, further enraging the creature.

All of a sudden, the power and lights returned. Mary stood alone by the entrance. Between her and Maverick were both Angledge and Green Gills, their eyes quickly readjusting to the light. Maverick hollered to draw their attention and backed away further into the cathedral, but a loud crash from the tower behind him interrupted. Mary reacted in a panic, her mouth forming a yell of warning. Then something hit him from behind and he blacked out.


	2. A Strange Unsettled Calm

Maverick woke up in a hospital bed.

Mary was slumped over in a padded wooden chair beside his bed, drifting off to sleep, a paperback teetering on her knee. Squinting, Maverick read the creased spine; Knowing God by JI Packer. The very same pocket-sized paperback edition he had lent to her, then told her to keep. Yelled at her to keep, he corrected himself with some embarrassment.

It was bright outside. The vertical drapes on the window next to his bed were shut but a long finger of direct noonday sunlight crept through at the edge.

Mary had put her hair up into a messy bun and changed into her favourite purple sweatpants and oversized Royal Veterinary College hoodie. A half-eaten blueberry muffin sat in its wrapper on the sidetable, next to her pink iPhone and car-key fob, complete with its dangling fluffy dog plushie.

Checking himself, Maverick discovered a large bandaged bump on the back of his head and several scuffs and bruises. Curtains separated him from the patients on either side, but this was clearly not intensive care.

Mary’s book flopped to the ground and she awoke with a start. The two eyed each other warily. At last, she asked if he was alright. He shrugged.

“Auntie Ellen’s here too. Just nipped off for some food.”

“Alright.”

“They thought you might be concussed. You dizzy?”

“No.”

“How many fingers?”

“Three.”

“What year is it?”

“2022.”

“And who am I?”

“Mary.”

“Mary...?”

“Mary Chesterton Dorsey.”

“...your...?”

He sighed. “Semi-estranged wife?”

She crossed her arms and scowled.

“Where’s Dee?”

“In surgery. They got the... well, it wasn’t a bullet... projectile, I guess, out of her hip last night but there’s still... I don’t know, they’re not done with her yet.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Overnight. This is tomorrow midday.”

Maverick sat up sharply. “Shit, I have class...”

“I took care of it,” Mary monotoned, producing his phone from her bag and offering it to him. “You still have the same lock pattern. You really ought to change it sometime. I got a hold of Corey early this morning and he found a substitute.”

He accepted the phone, unlocked it, cleared the notifications, and locked it again, a bit humbled. “Right. Thanks.”

“They’ll keep the substitute on indefinitely until they’re updated on your condition. The incident at the cathedral is all over the news so Mr. Arthur ought to be very understanding. People are calling you a hero.”

She retrieved her book from the floor. Maverick twiddled his fingers. Their eyes kept avoiding each other. The everyday hospital noises seeped into their cone of silence; the whirs and blips of machinery, the rustle and murmur of hospital staff traversing the hallway, the raspy croak of another patient’s laugh several beds down the row.

At last, he looked at Mary, who was staring off into space. “This St. Thomas’?”

She broke her stare and dipped her head a little, still not looking at him. “The thunderstorm downed a bunch of trees and debris so they brought all three of you here.”

“Harjit and Jane?”

“He’s in rough shape but the doctors say there’s a decent chance of recovery. They’re not so sure about her.”

“And the other two? Crawford and Mark, I think?”

She shook her head. “Straight to the morgue.”

He reached up to examine the bandaged bump on his head, then turned to study her face. “So, what happened?”

“At the cathedral?”

“Right, I mean beyond me blacking out as soon as the lights came back on.”

“The lights only came on for a few seconds. This massive third creature, that nobody saw properly, smashed into the tower from above. That’s where the chunk of stone that knocked you out came from. The fish-man and the lion raced off after the third creature and the huge noise in the sky restarted and then that Doctor-witch chased after them.”

Maverick watched her after she stopped talking. She was grooming her fingernails, jostling her left leg absently, and flicking her eyes around the curtain-enclosed space. She sniffled a bit and reached for a tissue.

“Mary. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to not be...”

Mary rose to her feet and paced the curtained area. “I said I’m fine.”

She wandered a few steps down the hall but doubled back and retook her chair. Maverick dumbly watched her stuff the book, phone, and keys into her bag and button up her coat. She hesitated, clearly ready to go.

“I guess you didn’t go see Grandad last night.”

She shook her head, her lips set in a line. She checked her phone and stood. “I’m going out. I’ll be back when Mum’s surgery is done. Auntie Ellen is coming back soon to see you. I’ll stop by the nurses’ desk on my way out and they’ll check on you. And I’ll keep Appa an extra couple days. Text me when you’re ready for him.”

She left before he could respond.

///

Dee watched her daughter over the menus, eyebrows raised. She was arranged in a hospital wheelchair with her hip carefully bound, cushioned, and bandaged. She’d requested a short walk to a bistro down the street from the hospital to have a break from hospital food and Mary had obliged.

“What are you ordering?” Mary asked. She ran her eyes down the menu once more, still searching for something appealing.

Dee began to hem about the options. “They have good chips here. And I hear their veggie burger is pretty good too.”

“I’m not eating a burger, Mum. When have I ever eaten burgers?”

“Well, now that veggie burgers are more common, I thought maybe you’d try it.”

“I’m not the one training for... I mean, who was training for a marathon. I don’t need all those calories.”

Dee pretended not to notice the awkward slip. “You have to eat something.”

“Think I’ll have a salad.”

Dee sighed and reached for her daughter’s thin forearm. “You don’t need to diet, honey. Have whatever you want.”

“I want a salad. I’ll even have a rich creamy dressing, if you’re so worried.” Mary closed her menu and reached for her cup of coffee before looking up to see her mother’s curious expression. She rolled her eyes and took a sip of steaming coffee, as if to close the matter.

“What’s new at work?” Dee offered the question like an olive branch and Mary took it with a smile.

“Well, there’s this adorable little terrier, a Scottie named Petrarch, who’s come into clinic a few times this month. He’s an anxious little fellow and his human has been getting complaints from neighbours about frantic barking while she’s at work. We’ve been working together to calm him down a bit.”

Dee leaned over to see the picture Mary had pulled up on her phone. “Aw, he’s a cutie. That little head tilt. Aww. What’s the owner like?”

“She’s lovely. Takes wonderful care of Petrarch. Not her fault at all, not like that poor pitbull I told you about last year.”

“That’s good. I suppose you’ve got some time off then?”

Mary nodded, a shadow passing over her face.

The waitress arrived to take their orders. Dee asked for a veggie burger with extra chips and a strawberry milkshake. Mary ordered a kale and beet salad with raspberry balsamic vinaigrette. Dee maintained a neutral expression. Once the waitress had left, Mary steered them onto church matters.

“What’s your study group reading these days?”

“Well,” Dee hesitated a moment, choosing her words. “We’re doing an overview of what the Bible says and doesn’t say about same sex attraction and sexual orientations. Weighing how it’s laid out in scripture and how that translates to modern day life.”

Mary frowned. “Isn’t it rather straightforward? I mean, it’s wrong. Homosexuality is unnatural and not a part of God’s plan. God didn’t create us for that. Is there really anything more to be said?”

Dee paled a little, not failing to notice the dirty look thrown their way by their waitress from the next table over, and shook her head carefully. “Well, yes. There’s more to it than that.”

Mary’s frown deepened. “Who’s leading your group these days?”

Before Dee could respond, the Doctor rushed past on the sidewalk just outside the window with her head down studying an unidentifiable device.

“Isn’t that the...?” Dee began to ask.

“That’s her. Quick, get a picture. Lynn’s been asking for evidence.”

Dee stared at the Doctor, forgetful of her phone laid plain on the table as Mary turned her handbag upside-down looking for hers.

“She’s coming back,” Dee said. “She’s coming... inside?”

The Doctor pushed inside the restaurant, eyes still glued to her tablet-sized device showing who knows what. Flashing her psychic paper at the front of house girl without looking up, the Doctor made a beeline for Mary and Dee’s table. When she finally looked up, she seemed shocked to see them.

“Oh? Oh!” She turned the device around 180 degrees, then glanced around the room for a different explanation. She discovered most of the eyes in the restaurant fixed on her and tried to awkwardly wave off all suspicion. “Just playing a game. It’s like Pokemon Go except with...” she scanned the room again, “...restaurants.”

“It’s you. You’re that woman from the cathedral,” Dee stated, remembering her phone at last and holding it up for a picture. The Doctor grinned for the photo, making the peace sign as Dee snapped several shots.

“And you’re the Chesterton-Wright-Hayneses. I swear, this week, it’s been like 1963 all over again. I’m half expecting to run into my granddaughter in a junkyard later.”

Dee and Mary stared at the thirty-something-looking woman in confusion.

“Granddaughter?” asked Dee. “You’ve got to be at least ten years younger than me. How...?”

Mary interrupted, blurting out, “How do you know my grandparents?”

“Sorry,” the Doctor waved off their questions, her tablet pinging like a pinball machine. “No time to chat right now. If you could point me toward the nearest Tube station?”

Dee and Mary pointed across the street in unison. “Lambeth North. Literally right there.”

The Doctor copied their pointed fingers with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Ah, perfect! Thanks! See you soon.”

She skipped across the street without looking, earning several irate honks.

“See you soon?” Dee echoed with skepticism. “When? And how does she know my name?”

“Did you notice that?” Mary gestured at the receding figure of the Doctor. “She had two wedding rings; ring finger and thumb.”

“Thumb? You sure?”

“Positive.”

Dee perused the three photos she’d taken of the Doctor, zooming in on her left hand. “Wow. Certainly looks it.”

Mary took the phone from her and nodded, flipping between the pictures. “Yes, that is definitely a wedding ring. Although her husband must be incredibly inept to buy her a ring so big she had to put it on her thumb.” Mary swiped once more, not noticing Dee’s sudden tension across the table.

“Who’s this?” Mary held up the phone. The next picture in the queue showed Dee with another woman. She was at least half a foot shorter than Dee, her hair short and curly, and her skin dark. They were holding hands and grinning with nervous excitement, posed in front of what looked like a dance club.

“That’s Samantha. Sam. She’s a lot of fun.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned her? We talk about our friends all the time.”

Dee flushed and shrugged unconvincingly. “I don’t know, guess I forgot.”

Mary seemed to buy it and flipped back to the pictures of the Doctor, examining the evidence for more clues as she spoke. “I hope you weren’t looking to meet men at a dance club of all places. I think we both know that’s a bad idea.”

“No, you’re right. Just me and Sam, out on a... having a girl’s night out.”

“Good.” Mary had zoomed in on the Doctor’s ear-cuff and was frowning at it when their waitress arrived with the food, which she set down with a clunk, glaring at Mary. Oblivious, Mary locked the phone, handed it back to Dee and reached for her fork.

They ate their meal quietly. Mary received a notification on her phone and checked her Instagram again as they ate. Done with the burger, Dee pushed the plate of chips across the table.

“Ugh, think I ordered too much. You want some?”

“Why did you order extra?”

Dee shrugged. “Eyes bigger than my stomach, I guess.”

Mary moved a small handful of chips to her plate with a sigh and then forked another mouthful of greens. She focused on Dee once more with renewed interest.

“You were going to tell me something after the wedding, weren’t you?”

“Yes... yes, I was.”

“What is it?”

Dee gulped a long sip of milkshake in a thoroughly transparent ploy to buy time. At Mary’s visible impatience, though, she wiped her mouth and cleared her throat. “You know I was trying that new app? To meet people? Well, I met someone and I was going to tell you about it the other day... that’s what I was going to tell you about... but I think it was premature and... well, it may have already run its course.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. What was he like?”

Dee watched her daughter searchingly for several quiet seconds before answering in a quiet undertone. “I don’t know. A really fun person. Maybe I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Why not now?”

“Some other time. Come on, Mary, let’s go back. I’m tired.”


	3. The Big Blue Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks. Hope you're enjoying. I'd be indebted to you for any feedback.
> 
> This is the last of the Doctor-lite chapters, with one minor exception. She'll be a major part in the rest of the story from here. I recognize its a bit self-defeating of me to sideline the character you already know and care about (and probably clicked on this story to read about), but I guess I'll know better next time.
> 
> And yes, Ian Chesterton will make an appearance later. He will not be a major character, but I made Mary his granddaughter for a reason, as you shall see.

No concussion, no infection, no major issues: just a big bloody bump.

Maverick awoke to the raucous chattering of Auntie Ellen and her small group bible study in the sitting room below him. His hospital discharge had been quick and now, only three days after the incident, he was waking up in his childhood bed in what had once been his bedroom but Auntie Ellen had long since converted into her own sewing-slash-reading-slash-video-game room.

He lay there for several minutes, probing and sketching the back of his head with his fingers, peripherally and groggily aware of Auntie Ellen’s Gengar, Pikachu, Eevee, and Snorlax plushies staring at him from the shelf across the room but refusing to give them the satisfaction. Another burst of hooting and hollering from below roused Maverick from bed and to his feet.

Auntie Ellen had never been one to coddle him. Kind, yes: loving, of course; but always insistent that the sooner he got up on his own two feet, the better. He rubbed and refocused his eyes to give himself a moment to mentally reset for the day.

At one end of the room was Auntie Ellen’s sewing corner, complete with comprehensive supplies shelf, uncluttered folding table, sky blue 1980’s era Jones & Co. machine, a pile of mending, and some half-finished scarves and socks. In the next corner stood two large, heavy bookcases, which would have looked out of place anywhere except a Gothic castle, one messily overflowing with fantasy, sci-fi, and historical fiction, the other stuffed tight with Christian devotionals, Bibles, apologetics, and the occasional secular history tome. Along the wall between the shelves and the door were a 43” Samsung tv, her Nintendo systems, her PC, and two well-organized baskets, of game discs and controllers respectively.

The two suitcases and a backpack that Maverick had brought with him from home lay haphazardly at the foot of the bed, partly open, dirty clothes strewn on top, old lesson plans crunched underneath his seven year old Dell laptop.

He sighed and checked his phone. A text message from Mary informed him that she had gone back to work that morning and that he could, if he physically felt up to it, take Appa out for an afternoon walk while she was busy. He eagerly accepted.

He showered, careful with his head wound, and shaved for the first time since the incident. He dressed, quickly but gingerly, cautious of any sudden movements lest he become dizzy or bump into something. Digging out a well-insulated sweater, jeans, a fresh pair of socks, and a winter jacket from his suitcases, he checked the mirror by the door before venturing downstairs.

The ladies group had collectively set aside their booklets on the prophet Isaiah in favour of a discussion of something utterly hilarious which Maverick never quite deciphered. Wary of being drawn into the room and forced to recount his reputed heroics to the ladies, he waited for a moment of peak hilarity before shuttling past the sitting room entrance and on into the kitchen.

Ambling out to the sidewalk after a furtive breakfast, he quickly realized he was nearly euphoric at the prospect of a walk with Appa in such bright and bracing weather. The rows of worn-down, brown townhouses that populated this stretch of Warbeck Rd in Shepherd’s Bush looked downright cheery in this effusive mid-morning light.

After the short familiar Tube ride between Shepherd’s Bush and Camden Town, Maverick returned to the light-side and made the short remaining two rights and a left to their building.

Appa greeted him with a joyous yelp at the door. Mary and Maverick had trained him for stealth indoors, which their neighbours in all directions much appreciated, but, after long absences like this, allowances were made. Maverick sunk his hands into the dog’s shaggy golden brown fur and floppy ears, and knelt down in front of him for a proper greeting.

The flat was much the same. Mary, somehow at once a perfectionist and a slob, had left dirty dishes on the floor, a mound of clean laundry on the couch, a pile of debris under the shade of a broom propped against the wall, and groceries sitting in their bags on the hall floor by the pantry. Maverick sighed; the balance was off. Typically, he would find himself cleaning up the place whenever he was procrastinating with his marking. But now...

A few treats and a drink later and Appa was ready to go. They trekked south down Arlington Road before shifting onto Hampstead, veering west onto Robert Street and then into Regent’s Park. They played catch for ten minutes near Gloucester Gate before heading on to the canal path to loop them back home.

Walking along the canal, Maverick marvelled again at the change in the weather. Blue uninterrupted sky. Not a whisper of the thunderheads and lightning of the other day. But the vicious February wind persisted. He pulled up his collar as it whipped through him.

They stopped at a shop just off the canal towpath for some fish and chips. Appa wasn’t too interested in the fish, so Maverick had it all to himself. After he finished, he hesitated on the Iron Footbridge over the canal. Appa sat patiently beside him, watching with his big brown adoring eyes. Maverick stood quietly and took in the day, letting his mind wander. It inevitably turned to the questions raised by the cathedral incident.

They were looking for a bird. What bird? And Sabretooth (or Angledge or whatever his name was) had mentioned his ‘Lord’. So, he must be working for somebody? But who?

Also, aliens exist? How did that happen? What does that mean?

And who is this Doctor woman really? And why here? Why now? Why me?

Amid this swirl of questions, a vague awareness crept over him of the big blue box he’d seen from the cab the other day by the side of Farringdon Street. Now it sat on the edge of the canal towpath about forty metres away beneath one of the weeping willows overlooking the lock. Maverick stood on the bridge for nearly five minutes, fretting over his questions, not even slightly interested in this anachronistic object’s highly coincidental return to his path.

At last, he noticed his uncharacteristic incuriousness, noticed his noticing, and broke through the perception filter. He roused Appa, descended from the bridge, and approached the box a bit warily. He reminded himself of the vines he’d seen reaching out of the box like arms. And the stone angel statues on the flatbed, perhaps they were connected too. It could all be connected to the Doctor or the space pirates or the other creature, whatever it was. He hesitated several paces away from the box.

There was an inscription on the panel in the door and Maverick stepped closer to read it.

Public Telephone Free For Use of Public

Advice & Assistance Obtainable Immediately

Officer & Cars Respond to All Calls

Pull to Open

Maverick read and reread the inscription several times and came to the opinion that, if this box were connected to any of the three parties, it would be the Doctor. She’d called Green Gills and Sabretooth ‘space pirates’, so it’d follow that she would be some sort of ‘space police’. Or ‘space doctor’? Maverick’s head spun and he stepped away again and watched the canal for a few moments.

His phone rang and it was his boss, Principal Paul Arthur, from the school office number. He answered hurriedly.

“Maverick! How are you? I hear you’ve been put through the ringer.”

“Yes sir! I’m doing well though. Just a nasty bump on the head and a bit of a fright.”

“Well, from what they say, you were quite the hero. I don’t want to rush you back or anything, but if you’re well enough to drop by sometime this week, we’d love to see you, get the whole story. Corey found a substitute for your class but he’s an uncouth asshat, so we’re looking forward to your return. But come on down whenever you can, we’d be happy to see you.”

“Thank you, sir. I’m out and about as we speak so I’ll be along later this afternoon.”

Maverick hung up and was about to pocket his phone again when his eyes fell on the blue box again. The inscription panel appeared to have a hinge; perhaps it contained a further clue. He found an old-fashioned rotary phone inside with a business card wedged under the receiver.

He reached for the card first. It was a thick minimalist business card with only six words, printed in a white Helvetica-adjacent font, on a dark brown oaky background. ‘Interfulmen Energy Solutions’, it read. What the hell does that mean? Is that supposed to be Latin? Fulmen, fulminis, meaning lightning? Some sort of hokey electrical company?

The second line baffled him further. ‘Paul Arthur Sr. – CEO’. What are the chances? Principal of Coal Hill School and also CEO of Interfulmen Energy Whatsit? He sighed and pocketed the business card, brainstorming for an angle to ask his boss about this without getting into dicey territory or arousing unwelcome questions.

Appa whined a bit and pawed at his foot, the dog having completed his in-depth examination of the base of the blue box and now at last experiencing some hunger pangs.

“I know, love; just another minute.” Maverick peered into the phone cubby once more. There was no sign of any contact information for the Doctor or anyone else. He lifted the receiver to his ear and listened; he cleared his throat and managed a confident-sounding greeting; dialled ‘0’.

Nothing.

He considered leaving. He shouldn’t get involved. Too much could go very wrong very quickly. Less you know the better.

But his disquiet grew, and his curiosity scoffed at such ostrichness.

In a burst of inspiration and faith, he scribbled a note on a scrap of receipt and shoved it into the box. He shut the panel firmly and marched away, his heart racing.


End file.
